


Plot Thickening

by valderys



Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: A comforting brew, a conversation and a misunderstanding or two. Not even a light squall in a teacup.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Plot Thickening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morvidra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvidra/gifts).



> Pinch hit in two days, apologies if my voices are not quite there, I could only lightly skim the relevant novels.

"Well," said Miss Hilary Thorpe, undergraduate of Shrewsbury College, with satisfaction, "How lovely to meet you at last."

It has to be said that Lady Wimsey, Harriet Vane as was, alumni and novelist of some repute, raised an eyebrow at that, perhaps a little rude of her and not something she was used to doing in the normal way, but she _was_ surprised.

Miss Leticia Martin, Dean of Same, chuckled. "Oh, your face, Harriet. I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to spring Thorpe on you, but I must admit, I thought you were acquainted."

Harriet picked up her tea cup and took a measured sip. Which was always a useful thing to do to give oneself time to think and she pitied cultures who didn't have such niceties built in. After all, fussing with pouring the milk and adding the right amount of sugar and then determining who would actually pour the tea and be 'Mother' sometimes took up almost all of a social visit one didn't really want to pay anyway. God bless the English - sometimes.

Of course, her ruminations were probably unfair in this case. In theory this was a social visit she _did_ want to pay - had been rather looking forward to it, in actual fact. She welcomed any opportunity to indulge herself back at the old alma mater - had done so ever since that wretched business with the poison pen letters had rekindled her thirst for... well, not knowledge exactly, she was always seeking to know things, but erudition, she supposed.

"That's quite alright," said Harriet at last, "It's lovely to meet you too, Miss Thorpe." She looked back to the Dean, "Why did you think I knew Miss Thorpe, if you don't mind my asking?"

Miss Martin smiled back, not at all phased. "Your young man, of course. Thorpe will chatter on about Lord Peter in tutorials. I had just assumed you knew each other, which is very bad of me."

Harriet looked at Miss Thorpe, somewhat critically, it had to be said. She must only be eighteen or nineteen but appeared older due to her confidence. She was a redhead with a swan neck, and had the sort of face and womanly figure that in certain circles might be described as stunning, certainly Harriet knew certain young men (naming no Saint-George's) who might well have been stunned by it. A young woman who had apparently been 'chattering' about Peter.

It was lucky, she thought, that she was the kind of woman who could look past such things and see the clear determined eyes and the ink stains on the fingers. Such a beautiful young woman with a clear acquaintance with Peter could be someone that a newish wife feeling ugly after pregnancy might feel wary of, but Harriet discarded that as unworthy. Peter and she had been through too much for her to begin to doubt him now. She was quite pleased with that thought by the end. There was nothing like feeling superior without harming anyone.

"Do please call me Hilary," said Miss Thorpe, leaning forward eagerly, "I met Lord Peter when he solved the mystery of my stolen family emeralds, you know. Three years or so ago when he visited Fenchurch St Paul."

That did ring a bell now - oh! Literal ringing bells, she remembered now. How queer.

"Yes, and now Hilary's up with us, part of the family, reading English. I gather Lord Peter encouraged her academic ambitions," said Miss Martin with a certain amount of approval.

"Oh yes," said Hilary, "Which was such a tremendous help when one is living with an aunt and uncle who don't see the value of it all, if you see what I mean."

There was a second of camaraderie. The automatic reaction of three women for whom academic ambitions had been fought for and achieved, for which the value was incalculable and yet need not be actively defended in this setting, within these walls, amongst such company.

"That certainly does explain it," said Harriet, feeling more charitable towards this lovely young woman, now she had context and sympathy.

"Therefore I thought we could dispose of two birds with one stone," continued Miss Martin with satisfaction, "And beg for your help in solving another little mystery with us, my dear Harriet."

Harriet's eyes opened wider - there hadn't even been a hint of that in the lovely little note inviting her to tea. It must mean a problem just as, if not more, delicate than the last nasty business. And was Miss Thorpe - Hilary - involved in it somehow? How distressing. Although she looked like she was bearing up well.

"Of course. What can I do to help?" said Harriet, ever practical, even if her heart sank just a little. As a new mother, she couldn't afford the sort of responsibilities that came with this sort of investigation and didn't have the kind of time either. But she'd been asked for her aid and there was a determination in her that was loath to turn them down flat.

"Well, it's Stella, you see," said Hilary earnestly, "Now her reputation has been ruined forever, I don't quite see why anyone would listen to her opinions about the murdered man - particularly once it is discovered that he was her lover."

Harriet sat back, a kind of icy chill running through her body. Apparently it didn't matter how many years went by, she would still feel the stab and the scar when it pulled. How funny.

Miss Martin leaned forward then to capture her hand between her own, just the warm soft feel of another's skin enough to make Harriet's eyes prick somewhat. Apparently, she was rather more transparent than she thought she should be. This having babies business did put one's emotions extraordinarily close to the surface, which was rather rotten...

"No, no,"cried Miss Martin, honestly distressed, "Whatever you're thinking, it's not that. Thorpe, you gudgeon, what were you thinking, just blurting out things like that. You've been taught better."

"I don't understand," said Hilary, upset, "What did I say? It's just the plot of my novel. Stella's being a bit of a beast, and I hoped you could help me, as a proper writer."

Harriet mentally gave herself a shake and looked, properly observed, the young lady before her. Her eyes were wide and confused, her mouth open in shock. There wasn't even a hint to be found of sly humour or subtle cruelty, and Harriet was a master at spotting that sort of thing, ever since the days of her trial.

"She doesn't know," said Miss Martin, gently, "Not everyone does, you realise, however much it might feel as though the world is constantly judging you, it's not always the case, I promise."

"What don't I know? I really am sorry, whatever it is," said Hilary, trying clumsily to be comforting, "Is the plot too shocking? Well, I know it is. That's because of the _Constant Nymph_ , you know. Or rather... my own version. I've always wanted to write you see - I've thought of it often and often, and the Dean and Miss de Vine were kind enough to prod me into doing something about it. You have to have affairs and murders and all kinds of outrageous behaviours that people would be ever so fearful of in real life or the book won't sell!"

Harriet found that, despite her treacherous body's reactions, she still had it in her to laugh at the absurd. Her mouth twitched into a smile almost without her knowing. It wasn't Hilary who was the silly gudgeon here. How on earth could she expect this very young girl to know that what Hilary considered an outrageously silly plot, Harriet had actually lived? She and Peter had even laughed about it together, after enough water had passed under the metaphorical bridge.

Harriet squeezed Miss Martin's hands once before letting go decisively. This would not do. "How about another cup of tea?" said Harriet firmly, before she could second guess herself and her feelings any more. "And then you can tell me all about it..."


End file.
